Monkey Trap
by TigerButterflied
Summary: She couldn't free herself until she learned to let go...
1. Chapter 1

I don't own them. This was started at the very beginning of sixth season, then abandoned due to writer's block. Now I'm inspired again, so I'm posting it here. This chapter gets a vulgarity warning. 

Monkey Trap Part 1

I never was any damned good at minding my own business. That's probably one reason I was a good detective. Another would be the fact that I was very sensitive to the flow of human interactions. This last ability really helped me in everyday life as well. In the lab, for instance. In the lab I could tell you which CSI's were friends, which ones didn't get along - and of course who loved who. At the Vegas crime lab that part got a little complicated. I know my own part in it was a strange one.

For instance, Catherine loved Warrick Brown. His marriage had floored her, and despite her valiant attempts to hide this fact he realized that he'd broken his closest friend's heart. He did love her, but not the way she loved him. He wasn't IN love with anyone, not even his new wife; he got married because he wanted to acquire "marriage." Gil Grissom was on the fading edge of being in love with Catherine. Years ago he gave up on anything coming of it, but still the faint trickle of cooling emotion remained. He WANTED me, more than a faint trickle of need, definitely not cool. I wanted him too, but I was still not sure what to do with it. Sara Sidle loved him a little, not as much as she once did, and not the way she needs to love to be happy, but some feeling is there, more a glowing ember than anything. He didn't want her, not really, and he needed to stop fanning it so she can get on with her life. Greg Sanders was very much in love with her, and he was sad because he thought she would never love him back. The irony of this wass that she DID love him, wanted him as well, but she had yet to admit it to herself. That would mean letting go of Grissom, and she'd hung on so long she didn't know how to do that. I remember I read about a South American monkey trap that was no more than a jar containing a piece of fruit. The mouth of the jar was small, just big enough for the monkey to get his hand into, but too small for him to withdraw it once the fruit was in his grasp. Letting go of the fruit would let the monkey pull his hand from the trap and escape, but he would hang on. Even when the hunter stood beside him with unsheathed machete he held fast to his prize. Sara Sidle is that monkey. She just wouldn't let go.

I liked Greg Sanders. He was my friend. That's why I'd decided to help him on this. For all his geeky brilliance, he wasn't up to solving this puzzle alone. Don't get me wrong - given a fair chance he was definitely the man for the job, the only man patient enough to unravel the intense skein of tangled emotions that made up our Sara. She trusted him, and he possessed the courage and tenacity to undertake a relationship that would scare the hell out of most men. Not him; he stepped into her darkened shadows with her, shared with her his own light. She couldn't see it, couldn't realize that he did what Grissom never could. Grissom had no light to offer, only his own confused velvet darkness. Gil realized this, and so he turned to others (myself) for brightness. My problem here was that I couldn't be there for him until Sara had moved on. She had to realize the hollowness of what had passed between them, had to come to understand it never had life or hope, that my presence or absence altered nothing for them. If she didn't, then she'd become arid and bitter with blame and never move forward. I had an idea. Quickly I grabbed my phone and keyed in the number. "Hi, Greg. Sophia. Listen, I need to see you after work. Yeah, your place is fine. I'll be about a half hour behind you, so that should give you enough time to get your dirty underwear off the couch. I'll tell you then. Okay. Bye."

The floor needed vacuuming, and the sink was overflowing with dishes, but his underwear was nowhere in sight, which was good because I had a damned good idea WHY they collected on the sofa. NO socks, shirts, or jeans - just wildly-patterned boxers. On the sofa. Right in front of the television. The man had no shame.

He grinned and offered me a drink. "Whatcha got, Sanders?"

He shrugged. "Coffee, soda, beer - maybe some wine..."

"I'll take a cup of coffee."

"So, Sophia, I am assuming there's a reason for your surprise visit?..." He spoke as he poured. "Unless you finally realized how irresistible I am and are throwing yourself at me this morning?" He hands me the cup with a grin and flops down across from me.

"Greg... I need to talk to you about Sara..."

He frowned. "Sara? What about her?" You could see the alarm in his eyes.

I shrugged. "I don't know if you realized this about me, but I watch people. I watch how they relate to each other, and through doing so I come to realize things about them. Greg, I know you're in love with her." His jaw dropped, but I continued. "And I can see she returns it, although she probably doesn't realize it herself at this point." I sigh. "If she'll let go of Grissom entirely she can let herself realize what flows between you. She just won't open her hand and do it. That's why I'm here. We have to help you get her past the dead fantasy. "

He sat back and shakes his head. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

I shrug. "You know about those South American monkey traps..."

He nodded. "Fruit in a jar... "

"Yeah, well... she ain't letting go."

He shrugged. "I get the analogy. How do we get her hand out?"

I smirked. "Fresher fruit, darling. And that's where you come in."

His eyebrows were almost touching his hairline. "I've been here for five years. She hasn't let go yet."

I leaned forward and pat his hand. "That's because you haven't seduced her, darling...for her, you are still just an enticing possibility."

"Sophia. Do you really believe I haven't tried?"

I shrugged. "You don't seem to do much flirting with her these days. Which is a damn shame, because you flirt very well."

"I used to flirt. She shot me down so many times I stopped. Now we're friends - which is all she'll ever see me as."

"So start flirting again, see how she takes it. Start seeing each other more outside of work. Help her understand how truly yummy you are. " I looked him over appraisingly. "We might want to work on the packaging a little... You're very attractive, but when you wear black her eyes light up. And the CSI vest is also good." I frown and think for a moment. "Do you own anything in black leather? Because if you do that would be perfect for when you two are away from the lab."

"You mean like a motorcycle jacket? I have one..."

"Wear it. There's nothing that says 'sex machine' like black leather." I smiled to myself. If things worked out like I wanted them to I might get Gil one for his birthday. "You have to remember one thing, Greg. She already WANTS what you have, she just isn't sure she wants to want it."

He cleared his throat. "So assuming... assuming I get her to go out with me..."

"You will. Guaranteed."

"...assuming you're right, then what? Do I play it as just a friendly date, or do I push things?"

I shrugged. "Not too aggressive, maybe sit close, LOTS of eye contact. Don't throw a liplock on her, just... show her what she's missing. Make her WANT you to kiss her. Then ask her out again. Make her wait."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I should bring her flowers. And we can go to dinner at India Mahal. She loves Indian food, and they're supposed to be the best place in town."

"They are wonderful... great atmosphere as well. So call her, ask her out." He nodded but just sat there, and I knew if I didn't push this he'd never get the nerve up to do it. I planned to be his courage if that's what it took. "I meant NOW, Greg. You're both off this weekend; ask her out for tonight." I handed him his telephone.

He sighed dramatically and took the telephone. "I ... I can't right now... Sophia, she's going

to say no."

I raised my eyebrows. "You're inviting her to dinner, not proposing marriage. She's probably going to say yes, but if she has plans you ask for another night. The point is, do not give up."

He slowly lifted the reciever and dialed. "Hello. Hello, Sara! Hi! Yeah. Listen, I just noticed we're both off tonight and I was thinking maybe we could go get something to eat if you're not busy." A smile spread over his features; I knew what her answer had been. "Great! I'll pick you up at six then. See you then. Bye..." He gingerly hung the phone up and grinned at me. "Sophia, you are a genius. She was shocked, but in a good way. I have a date with Sara Sidle!"

I stood. "Well, that is my cue to go then. You have a LOT of cleaning to do. " I looked around. "And Greg? Change your sheets, just in case..."

Five fifty-five, and I pulled carefully into a space in front of Sara's apartment. I glanced in the mirror and popped a breathmint before getting out of the car. I had the flowers, a brightly-colored mixture I'd gotten on the way, and headed for her door. I thought of what Sophia had said. I wasn't sure I believed half of it, but Sara's reaction to my invitation - excited surprise - made me hopeful. I was wearing black jeans, black T-shirt, and the biker jacket Sophia had been adament I should make good use of. With shaking hand I pressed her buzzer.

"Just a sec," she shouted. In a moment she appeared at the door. She was wearing a deep purple sleeveless sweater and dark, tight jeans that hugged her very nicely. She looked me over assessingly, and I was surprised at the flash of heat I saw in her eyes when our gazes met. "You look nice tonight..."

"So do you." I handed her the flowers.

"How sweet, but Greg, you didn't have to..." She was smiling, though, as she went to put the bouquet in water. "So where are we going?"

"I thought you might like to try India Mahal. If that's okay..."

"That's great. I've been wanting to try them for a while. Pricey, though." She raised an eyebrow. "You're worth it."

She smiled. "I'm glad someone thinks so. Flowers, a nice restaurant - you're a class act, Greggo. I am suitably impressed." She looked me over again and just smiled.

I extended my arm to her. "So, if you're ready, your chariot awaits."

She took my arm and grinned. "I feel like Cinderella."

I laughed. "I can assure you, my VW was never a pumpkin. Sometimes I think it might be a lemon, but never a pumpkin."

"Wow; this is wonderful, Greg." She squeezed my arm. "This is my first date in over a year, you know."

I smiled sheepishly. "It's been a while for me, too. Work doesn't leave much time for a personal life."

She nodded. "And nobody outside the field really understands what it's like for us. When you have a hard case, something really horrible, it doesn't go away when you leave the lab. It still hurts."

I nodded. "Like the boy in the box. That one still bothers me."

She took my hand. "I'd tell you you'll get to the point they don't touch you, but that would be a lie."

I sighed. "I think we're supposed to be bothered by it. I mean, a human being has had their life ripped from them. That's a terrible thing."

She nodded. "Yeah, but if you take it on too much you'll fall apart. Take it from someone who did just that. You have a lot of heart, Greg, and that's what's most wonderful about you, but take care you don't make everything personal. And that said, I am a FINE one to talk."

"Sometimes I think it's not really a choice. You feel how you feel. How can any of us help that? Some people are just... detached... by nature; that doesn't mean they're stronger, only that they aren't feeling things to the same extent." I sighed. "We are what we are, Sara. It bothers me, but I have people who care about me to share it with..." I took her hand "...and so do you. It's not weakness to let a friend share the load."

"Point well taken, Mr. Sanders." She squeezed my hand. "You're a good guy. You have a lot of depth to you, and you're smart and you're funny and you're..." She sighed. "Guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you invited me out tonight. I can't remember when I've had such a great time."

"I'm glad you agreed to come. " I brushed an errant strand of dark hair from her cheek. "You are so beautiful."

She laughed. "Glad you think so, but no, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You haunt my dreams, you know. "

"So you say. But you're a hopeless flirt." She wiped a crumb from my upper lip. "You say that to all the girls."

I caught her wrist before she could withdraw her hand, held it for a moment. "No, I don't. I don't flirt so much any more."

"Why is that?"

I shrugged.

"You're flirting with me right now."

I smiled as seductively as I knew how. "So I am, Miss Sidle, so I am." I kissed her hand and released it. "I guess I just can't help myself."


	2. Chapter 2

Monkey Trap part 2

I'm back in high school, I thought as Greg walked me to my front door. He was smiling that crazy lopsided grin he gets when he's nervous - nervous going out with ME, for heaven's sake - and it made my heart melt. It had been a perfect date in all respects - wonderful guy, great food, no awkwardness, no staring at my boobs (well, not much at least.) I hadn't felt at all guilty like I had when I was dating Hank - then I'd felt like I was cheating on Grissom. This time, not a twinge. Guess that was a sign of moving on.

We reached my door. "So." Greg looked at his feet and fidgeted.

"I have had a wonderful time, Greg." I hesitated for a moment. "Would you like to come in for a drink, maybe watch the news?"

He grinned like a kid on Christmas. "Yeah, I'd, um, I'd like that..."

"Sit down. What would you like?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you're having is great."

"Maybe a glass of wine... you like Reisling? I have that, Merlot..."

"Either one would be great."

Reisling, I thought and removed the cobalt blue bottle from the fridge. I poured it into two coffee mugs and brought them over to the couch. I handed a cup to Greg, then sat beside him. "Hope you like this. It's pretty cheap, but I like it."

"Only thing I'm picky over is coffee."

I laughed. "Glad to hear it."

He grinned at me. "I don't want to be too pushy, but would you like to go do something tomorrow night since we're off?"

I looked down at my cup and then back up at him. "I think that would be nice. What do you have in mind?"

He shrugged. "Maybe dinner at my house, rent some movies."

"You can cook?"

He snorted. "I can call and order pizza. My cooking ain't so great, unless you have a real craving for ramen noodles. "

I laughed. "I think I'll take you up on pizza. I ate enough ramen noodles in college for a lifetime."

He edged closer to me, and I smiled encouragement. He slipped his arms around me and pulled me close. It felt so good being held by someone I trust, and I relax into the embrace. I fell asleep at some point during the news, because when I woke up I was still in Greg's arms. He was watching me with something close to adoration. I smiled up at him. "Sorry about that."

He smiled. "It's okay. You were tired." He stroked my hair as he spoke. In that instant it hit me - Greg Sanders loves me. I looked into his eyes for confirmation, and the tenderness I saw there told me all I needed to know. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." I put my hand on his cheek, then slowly moved my mouth toward his. His lips were soft and gentle on mine, and when I felt his tongue beg entry I opened for him. He gasped as he deepened the kiss, and strong arms enclosed me as the kiss went on and on. It was dizzying, and I clung to him as the sweet invasion set my nerves on fire. Finally he pulled back. "Amazing," I whispered and tried to pull him back down to me.

He shook his head. "I'm getting close to the point of having a hard time stopping. We need... we need to take this slow, because I can't handle becoming a mistake you end up regretting." He stood then and helped me up. "I need to go, but I'll see you tomorrow night. How does six sound?"

"Six is good."

He gave me one last sweet kiss and opened my door. I watched him walk out to his car and sighed. "I wouldn't have regretted it," I whispered to myself, then shut the door. 


	3. Chapter 3

Yeah, y'all thought I'd forgot about this one, didn't you? That's because I kind of did.

One of the benefits of being scatterbrained is that you're forever making exciting discoveries... like chapters of stories you wrote and forgot to post ...

Five PM, and my apartment was cleaner than it had been since I moved in. I even stopped by Wal-Mart and bought a new set of sheets, which meant I was either optimistic or delusional; I couldn't decide which. At any rate, they were washed and on the bed, and on my dresser were my other purchases, a set of three candles for atmosphere - like I said, optimistic or delusional; the jury was still out on which. I'd already showered, shaved, and dressed, so all that remained was a call to the pizza man - that, and the longest hour of my life waiting for her to arrive.

Yes, I was nervous, or whatever you call that state of anxiety hanging between "nervous" and "hysterical," but for the first time I had good reason to think that I, Greg Sanders, had a serious shot at winning the heart of the lovely Sara Sidle. With that thought, I smiled and switched the channel to SPIKE-TV. Anything to make the time pass a little faster.

The pizza arrived at five forty-five. About ten til six I decided to brush my teeth again, then applied one last spritz of cologne on my way out of the bathroom. The butterflies in my stomach had morphed into pterodactyls, and my hands were trembling like a little girl's. I shake when I'm really anxious, always have. I have always hated it, especially now on what may be one of the most important evenings of my life.

And then I heard a faint knock. A glance in the mirror - not too bad - and I went for the door. She was unbelieveably hot in a lacy deep purple tank top and black jeans, smelling faintly of Estee Lauder Pleasures and baby shampoo. Without forethought I drew her close. She wrapped her arms around me to return the hug. 'I love this woman so much,' I thought with a smile, ' and now here she is in my arms.' "You made it," I said aloud, and I realized my voice was quavering as well.

"I smell the pizza - what movie are we watching?"

"Ummm... I was thinking The Village, actually... but I have a lot of others if you've seen it."

She smiled. "The Village sounds good. I understand it's a strange movie."

"It is that - but you'll have to see for yourself."

She looked around. "I like your apartment. You have a great kitchen - and you're a decent housekeeper."

I wasn't about to let her know that it had taked me most of the day to achieve 'decent,' so I just smiled. "I don't know about the housekeeping, but my favorite thing about this place is the price."

"I like it. It's comfortable."

"So, why don't you have a seat. I'll bring over the pizza... and what would you like to drink - beer? wine? Coke?"

She smiled. "Coke would be great"  
The movie was good, and as the closing credits rolled I made my move... 


	4. Chapter 4

Remoob, this one's for you! It's been a long, long time since I last updated this, for which I apologize profusely. I haven't forgotten or abandoned my stories in process, but writer's block and a bizarre and frantic everyday life have made the process a slow one. For some reason this has been an especially hard chapter to write. I really wanted to get it right, but I'm not sure I did. Hopefully not too many chapters left on this one. 

At one time I was a pretty smooth operator, or at least I fancied myself one. I once was a bold man, one who knew what he wanted and didn't hesitate when it came to pursuit. All that departed as I watched the movie credits roll across the screen and glanced at the lovely lady beside me. Suddenly I didn't want to be bold, or smooth, or even a charming seducer. I wanted to be real, to pull her into my arms and kiss her with all the love and desire I'd held back for so long, to have her kiss me back because she wanted to, not because I was skilled or persuasive or any of the other reasons I told myself past lovers had given me what I wanted. This time I needed her to want me back, need me as fiercely and desperately as I needed her.

With clumsy, fumbling hands I turned her toward me, looked into her eyes for close to a full minute before slowly lowering my lips to hers. Her mouth parted under mine and I took the hint, kissed her back fully as my hands stroked over her cheeks, her arms, her sides. I pulled her into me, and she slipped over to straddle me, her legs on either side of mine. This was good, very good, almost too good as she moved against me.

Then she slipped her hands under my shirt. "Do you have a bedroom?" she whispered as she stroked through my sparse chest hair.

"Uh, yeah. Ohhh..."

"I want to see it. Will you show it to me?"

"Okay..."

She rolled up to stand, then grabbed my hand. I pulled her into a kiss and backed her into my room. "Here we are," I whispered.

She looked around, taking in the neat bookshelf, tasteful new comforter, the candles glowing warmly on the dresser. "Nice," she said, then sat on my bed and held out her hand to me. "Come here."

I settled over her and lowered my lips to hers. She kissed me back with an abandon I'd never thought to feel from her - but then again, I'd never expected to have her in my bed either. Our clothes ended up in a pile on the floor, and with hands and lips we explore each other's candlelit secrets. We joined together with a shared gasp, and when our slow ride to shared ecstasy climaxed our cries echoed together. In the aftermath I clung to her, even then not wanting to let go. I wasn't sure what the future would bring, but I was going to hang onto this for as long as I could.


End file.
